Hiro realized that, even when he tried to, he couldn't remember what Vesper wore to the wake. What he did remember was how, when her hands took hold of his shoulders, he could see her tattoos up close, sleeves that trailed down to the sharp lines of her wrists. They were comforting.
With more thought, he also remembered how uncomfortable the older girl looked when she waited for her turn at the altar, how she passed by other mourners with muted apologies. The way her shoulders hunched, she looked like she was ready to be admonished for being in a place she shouldn't be. And when she stood there looking at Tadashi's portrait, she looked defeated, like there was a great weight sitting on her shoulders. She didn't stay long, and Hiro couldn't recall her even speaking to Aunt Cass. She just found him again and held his shoulders. Didn't hug him, which was nice- he had been forced into too many hugs by too many people already.
"If you need to get away for a while, my door's always open. You know I'll make exceptions for you." She had promised him in a faraway voice, a monotone assurance that he had taken in stride with a nod before she bolted. In his grief and guilt, Hiro had locked that promise away.
If he was being honest, he had forgotten about it. Between the mess with Callaghan, and the aftermath of finding a place in his robotics classes at the university, Vesper had slipped through the cracks, forgotten like a slip of scrap paper. But thinking back on the funeral, remembering that moment when her hands touched his shoulders, Hiro couldn't help but pause. He had a group of new friends, people Tadashi had introduced him to, but he'd forgotten friends he already had.
The more he dwelled on it, the more he realized he never saw her in the café either- though he wondered if that had to do with his class schedule. But still, even on weekends and evenings, on the beat poetry nights she always attended so she could sit in the corner and look amused, she was nowhere to be found. It was like she had died right along with his brother.
That wasn't true, of course- if he wanted proof she was still alive and flourishing all he had to do was walk six blocks up and three blocks over to find her shop and look in the window. But while part of him reasoned that he was too busy to make that walk, or that she was too busy to see him, part of him just didn't want to go because of the guilt.
But now he could see it, all of it- what she had worn to the wake, and why she had such a great weight on her shoulders when she stood there, looking at Tadashi's picture. Baymax had captured it all- and as his expression transformed into understanding, his guilt grew even more. He hadn't been the only one suffering; and when he had friends to assist him, Vesper had no one.
And it was obvious, that wasn't what Tadashi wanted.